Unconventional Bonding
by WeeLittleBeastie
Summary: Tony's under the weather. Gibbs is worried. Mayhem ensues. Gibbs/Tony Father/Son. Rating for language and illness-related whump.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I did a ton of research before I decided to venture into this little piece of fiction, but it's likely there will be some inaccuracies anyway. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters. I just borrow them occasionally.**

The chainsaw sleeping at his boss's desk finally managed to rouse Tony DiNozzo from the haze of paperwork long enough to check his watch. With a sigh, the agent wondered when he'd decided that case files and government forms were an acceptable use of a Saturday and stretched his tired muscles, rubbing his sore neck with a grimace as he threw a sour look at the silver-haired man across the bullpen.

It was a well-known fact that Gibbs could sleep almost anywhere. In the four years that Tony had worked for him, he'd seen the former marine fall asleep in any number of odd places under circumstances that could only be described as ridiculous. For the moment his choice of position seemed acceptable enough; feet propped on the desk, chin tucked into his breastbone, hands folded across his chest. Another snore punctured the silence of the squad room as he inhaled, mumbling something incoherent. Tony smiled and dropped his gaze back to the open file on his desk. _Last__one..._

Ten minutes later he scrawled his signature across the bottom of the report and closed the file, setting it on top of the neat stack of now-completed paperwork. Stretching quietly the agent glanced out the window at the strip of pink on the horizon. If he hurried, he could make it home for four or five hours of much-needed sleep in his own bed before he had to meet with an old college buddy for a game of one-on-one. Rubbing his stiff neck, he reached for his jacket.

"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?"

Tony jumped and spun on his heel. Gibbs was still sitting with his feet propped up and his hands folded, but pale blue eyes were boring into his own green ones without expression. "Uh." _Classy,__Anthony._"Well, I finished my paperwork, and since we're off rotation I thought I'd try to catch some sleep in that apartment I almost forgot I have." He smiled weakly and reached up to rub his neck again, wincing at the soreness beneath his fingers.

Gibbs let his feet fall back to the floor and leaned forward, scrutinizing his agent carefully. Finally he nodded, not missing the relieved look on his senior field agent's face as the man slumped visibly and turned toward the elevator.

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah boss?"

"Are you feeling okay?"

Tony pondered for a moment before stating simply, "nothing a little sleep won't cure. See you Monday, boss."

Safely inside the elevator, Tony flipped the emergency switch, thinking to take a moment to gather himself. He didn't like lying to his boss; he was far from fine. The pounding in his head and his stiff neck was exacerbated by the lingering cough he'd picked up from his friendly neighborhood cold bug, until the agony behind his eyes nearly blinded him. That, combined with his seeming inability to keep his eyes open, had led him to conclude that his entire weekend was best spent in bed.

Switching off the emergency stop, DiNozzo steeled himself for the walk to his car, letting his eyes fall closed as he drew in as deep a breath as he could manage. The air rushed out in a startled yelp that dissolved into a nasty coughing fit when the doors opened to reveal Gibbs waiting for him.

The former marine frowned as he watched his agent struggle to breathe, bent over double as he hacked. Finally the fit subsided and Tony managed to straighten, his face red from more than lack of oxygen. "Boss, you scared the crap out of me."

"I can see that, DiNozzo. I can also see that you're not fine, either."

At least the kid had the decency to look sheepish. "Honestly, boss, it's just a cold that got blown out of proportion by my stupid lungs." The agent gestured at his chest, as though Gibbs needed reminding of how the plague had scarred his lungs, increasing their vulnerability to infections. "I fully intend to spend my entire weekend in bed resting so I can come back to work on Monday the picture of health."

The look on the younger man's face was so pathetic that Gibbs had to make use of a lot of willpower to keep the smile from his face. He let the silence linger for a moment longer. "I intend to make sure you do exactly that, DiNozzo." Seizing the agent by his elbow he led him to his own car. "In."

"Boss, I don't need a babysitter."

"Never said I was babysitting you, Tony. You're in no condition to drive. Your car will still be here on Monday. Now get in."

**I know this is short but I'm not 100% sure where exactly I want to go with this yet. I'm gonna go ahead and say this particular story might take a while to update, but I promise you there is more to come! Chapter 2 is already half-written.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, you guys! I did not expect such an overwhelmingly positive response. Thank you so much for all of the alerts, favorites, and reviews. They mean so much to me. **

**As fair warning to you all, I am doing NaNoWriMo this year. After last year's debacle (I only made it 2000 words in before I had to quit and focus on college finals) I fully intend to make it at least halfway this time around and so a lot of my time will be dedicated to that, meaning it'll be a little longer than I'd hoped between updates. The upside is that from here on out chapters should be longer, because while I'm notoriously bad at writing beginnings, I do pretty well with the meat of the story.**

Gibbs wasn't sure when his relationship with Tony had crossed the line from professional courtesy to parental affection. After Kelly had died, he'd strongly believed that he'd never develop that kind of relationship with anyone again, and at first he'd resisted the field agent's gravity. But Tony was a walking accident, and he'd proven that while he was capable of handling himself most of the time, he needed someone to watch his six. And from there, things had escalated until the grizzly old Marine thought of the younger man as a kind of surrogate son.

Tony had been resistant, at first, to let things go beyond a strictly working relationship. But a few cowboy-style steak dinners, some late ones at a handful of local dive bars after a difficult case, and evenings spent carefully working on the boat in Gibbs' basement, and slowly DiNozzo had opened up, let more of himself show than just the playboy exterior he so desperately wanted people to believe. "It's easier," he'd said one night after too much bourbon and a very badly sanded section of boat (which Gibbs had replaced later without a word, to spare the agent's feelings). "If people believe you're a shallow bastard they won't try to dig deeper."

Gibbs had just given his then-probie a long look over the edge of his bourbon glass, until the younger man dropped his gaze.

It was well past noon when Gibbs dropped his sandpaper on the workbench and stretched, wincing as his joints popped and crackled. He was definitely beginning to feel his age; Ducky had commented once that all the time he spent in his cold basement was going to make him too stiff to move someday.

Climbing the basement steps, he headed down the back hall to the guest room and cracked the door. Tony was still asleep, snoring softly. The lead agent pushed the door open on silent hinges and crept to the edge of the bed, laying a hand on the young man's forehead. He still burned with fever and despite the sweat that drenched him, he was obviously chilled. Gibbs pulled the comforter up around his neck and tucked it under him tightly, disappearing down the hall and returning a moment later with the afghan from the back of the couch. He draped it over his agent, refilled the glass of water on the bedside table in case Tony needed it when he woke, and then closed the door behind him, reaching for the cell in his pocket as he returned to the living room.

"Jethro! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Duck, I need a favor." Gibbs tried not to wince as a distinctly unpleasant squelching noise filtered through the phone speaker. "DiNozzo's broiling in my guest room."

Ducky hummed absently and Gibbs imagined him tipping some poor bastard's liver into his shiny metal scale. "I'm nearly finished here, Jethro. Perhaps young Mr. Palmer can finish stitching up our Lance Corporal?" There was an immediate and over-eager affirmative from the autopsy gremlin that Gibbs barely heard but smiled at all the same; Palmer was an odd one, but even though the lead agent wouldn't admit it, he'd grown on him. "I'll stop by the pharmacy and then head to yours. Until then keep an eye on him. If his fever gets any worse you may need to take him to the ER."

"Thanks Duck." Gibbs tucked the cell back into his pocket and sighed, rubbing his temples for a moment, thinking. A fever wasn't necessarily bad, but this one felt unnaturally high. Tony's cough wasn't bad, and while he'd seemed sore and uncomfortable it hadn't looked to be outright pain. Unfortunately, his senior field agent was good at downplaying his ills and injuries, and after a debacle in which the idiot had almost lost the use of his arm, he'd learned it was better to be safe than sorry. Gibbs would do as Ducky said and watch him closely until the ME could give him a better idea of what was wrong.

He'd just turned around to head back downstairs when he heard a soft "Boss?" from the hallway. Tony was standing in the open door, bleary-eyed and pale as a ghost. "I think maybe something's wrong." And with that, the agent crumpled to the floor in a heap and began seizing on the carpet.

Ducky reached under the shade of his desk lamp, pulling the chain and throwing the room into darkness. Shrugging into his coat, he bid a quick farewell to Palmer and headed for the elevator. The ME couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. Once again, their young Anthony was ill. Ducky wondered quietly how anyone with such a talent for getting himself into trouble was still in one piece. But then, Tony was quite a resilient young man. He'd bounced back from more than a few impossible situations against insurmountable odds.

The vibration of his cell phone brought Ducky back to the present and he quickly answered it when Gibbs' name appeared on the screen. "Jethro, I was just leaving."

"Change of plans, Duck," the Marine replied, and there was an edge to his voice that made the ME's stomach twist. A siren kicked on in the background and an engine roared to life. "Meet us at Bethesda as soon as you can." Then the line went dead.

**There you have it. I am SO SORRY that it's so short, but I promise I will try to make the next one longer. Like I said, I'm bad at beginnings, but now things should pick up a bit.**

**I don't if I've already warned for this but there's no real plot to this. It's a blatant excuse for sick!Tony whump and father/son bonding. Hopefully you all don't mind too much. :)**


End file.
